


Unlocked

by Edhla



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Sherlock Being Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-18
Updated: 2013-10-18
Packaged: 2017-12-29 18:26:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1008596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edhla/pseuds/Edhla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John won't be leaving for his date without his wallet and phone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unlocked

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MadameGiry25](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadameGiry25/gifts).



John rattled the door handle to Sherlock's bedroom, but it was no use - locked fast. He heaved a sigh.

"Sherlock, open up," he demanded.

"Go away," was the response, muffled by what was probably the duvet pulled over his head. John had an instant mental image of what was going on behind that door- Sherlock was curled up on the bed sulking. _For God's sake._ Six months after that fateful first meeting in the Barts lab, and John still couldn't believe how stupidly immature his flatmate could be sometimes.

"Oh, trust me. I'd love to 'go away'," he said through gritted teeth. "But I can't leave without my wallet and phone, which I know you've got in there with you. Cut it out and open the door."

Silence. John rattled the door handle again.

"If I can't get to my wallet, I'm headed to Maggs Bros with as many of your books as I can carry," he threatened. "Don't think I won't. There's a reason Harry doesn't own any Def Leppard CDs anymore."

"I'd like to see you try without your wallet," was the response. "You need to confirm your identity to sell. They won't accept what are clearly stolen goods."

"As opposed to, what, you _borrowing_ my stuff in there?" John smacked his palm against the door in frustration. "Should I skip all this and just call your brother to sort you out instead?"

"You might find that difficult. Mycroft's in Copenhagen."

"Sherlock, come _on_. I'm only going on a date. It's not the end of the world. I know you're not keen on Laura, but you're not the one dating her." _And I won't be dating her either, if I don't get a move on. I don't even know her number without my phone._

"We're in the middle of a case," Sherlock told him plaintively. "How am I supposed to interview Emma Laughton about the murder of her secretary _and_ examine her office at the same time while you're off watching some dull film with Lauren?"

"Laura. And how are you going to do either of those things while you're barricaded in your room with my stuff?"

More silence.

"I'll help you when I get back. Promise," John offered, trying to appease the great sulking detective.

"You said that _last_ time."

"Yeah, well, It's not _my_ fault you solved the case while I was gone… oh _,_ fine."

John huffed back to the kitchen, rifling the drawers by the sink for a flathead screwdriver and a safety pin, both of which came to hand within a minute. He took them back to Sherlock's bedroom door and got to work; as he slid the screwdriver into the lock and started resetting the pins, he heard Sherlock get up in a flurry.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm not completely useless, you know," John said as the last pin sprung and the lock clicked over. He opened the door and marched over to pick up his wallet and phone from where they sat on Sherlock's mattress. "Thank you. I'll be home around midnight."

Sherlock was looking blankly at the sprung lock on the door; he reached out and ran his finger over it, examining it for a second. "You never told me you could pick a lock," he said, as if he had just discovered John could fly.

"You never asked. See you."

Sherlock steepled his fingers, putting them to his lips. "You do realise that this changes everything, John," he said, eyes aglow with the glorious possibilities that had just presented themselves to him. "Now that we _both_ know the art of picking a lock in a short amount of time, our chances of finding the…"

He trailed off, only realising he was now alone as the street door below slammed shut. John was already hailing a cab.


End file.
